Then she walked home.
Thomas stood on the porch watching until the blue of her dress disappeared behind the cottonwoods.
He remained there another five minutes.
Then went inside.
He ate two pieces of pie before noon.
He thought about Margaret for the rest of the day.
And the night.
And nearly every day for the following two weeks.
Thomas Calloway was not a man who changed direction quickly.
He had learned cattle through patience.
Weather through observation.
Marriage through years.
Grief through necessity.
He believed decisions worth making should survive being thought about twice.
Margaret Hale survived being thought about approximately four hundred times.
He thought about her while repairing the north fence.
He thought about her while hauling feed.
He thought about her while sitting beside Eleanor’s grave one evening, not because he believed the dead answered questions, but because he needed somewhere to ask one.
“Am I betraying you?”
Wind moved through the cottonwood.
Thomas stared at the earth.
He knew what Eleanor would have said.
She had been practical to the point of cruelty when Thomas indulged self-pity.
Once, after a bad cattle season, he had complained for nearly an hour about fate.
Eleanor listened.
Then said:
“Stubbornness pointed in the wrong direction is just stupidity wearing boots.”
Thomas smiled at the memory.
He suspected she would have had similar opinions now.
Three days later, Daniel Marsh arrived at Margaret’s ranch carrying flowers from Denver.
Margaret was repairing a gate when she saw the wagon.
She wiped her hands on her apron.
Daniel climbed down wearing a dark coat too fine for fence work and carrying an arrangement wrapped in paper.
“Margaret.”
“Daniel.”
He held out the flowers.
She accepted them.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as—”
“Don’t.”
Daniel stopped.
Margaret smiled.
“Please don’t say it.”
He laughed.
“All right.”
She liked him for listening.
Daniel was not a bad man.
That complicated things.
It would have been easier if he were vain or cruel.
Instead he was intelligent, attentive, financially secure, and genuinely interested in her.
He came inside for coffee.
They sat at the kitchen table.
Daniel talked about his father’s new railroad supply contract.
Margaret listened.
Then he asked:
“Have you decided about the Harvest Social?”
Margaret looked at her cup.
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“May I ask why?”
She looked up.
“Because I’m trying not to answer dishonestly.”
He studied her.
“There’s somebody else.”
Margaret did not respond.
Daniel leaned back.
“That’s an answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is he courting you?”
“No.”
“Does he know you want him to?”
Margaret nearly choked on coffee.
Daniel smiled.
“Apparently not.”
She looked at him.
“You’re taking this better than I expected.”
“I’m trying to determine whether I should be offended.”
“Should you?”
“Probably.”
“But I’m too curious.”
Margaret laughed.
Daniel’s expression softened.
“I do care for you.”
“I know.”
“And I think we would make sense.”
Margaret nodded.
“So does everyone.”
“But?”
She looked through the window toward the field separating her ranch from Thomas’s.
“But making sense is not the same as being right.”
Daniel followed her gaze.